I need spell check.

Ok, so Supermom had the D&C and is ok. Sad, but ok. She should be back
at work tomorrow, though *I* think she should take more time off and
go to Fiji or some other FTW thing; I have been doing a bunch of her
stuff so that it wouldn't pile up while she's away. That made today a
little harsh -- Eviljob, teach, teach, Eviljob, class office hours via
email, and Eviljob -- but what's a few days for poor little PopTart's
mom? Fiji. Seriously.

I (we) am (are) still struggling with J 2.5 defection crap, and I
(just I) am currently deciding whether to put in a resume for a new
department at Eviljob, or find something different. Long story, but I
had to explain to the depressed manager for whom I wrote the action
plan that I was not even *thinking* of 'scooping' her, because she is
planning on applying for the same department, and she needs to get out
from where she currently is, and in no small way. Mom, in Other News,
is fine; her oncologist thinks her discolouration is the result of
poor drainage in the lymphectomy and lumpectomy areas, and was going
to have an MRI, but her creatinine is at 36, so she cannot have the
contrast dye (it is taxing to one's renal function, and I am phrasing
it that way cos I am on pda and too tired-slash-lazy to look up
whether I should spell the plural of 'kidney' with a -y or -ies. Yes,
I really am that paradoxically stupid, particularly when I am
exhausted; shut up. I can spell and define
'antidisestablishmentarianism', 'hermeneutic', and
'sesquipedalianism', but not pluralise 'kidney'. Eat me. At least I am
honest. The word 'monkey' fucks with me as well; wtf is the plural of
'monkey'? I don't actually *know* English, I just kind-of press keys
here randomly and hope it all works itself out,
bluhbluhbluhbluhhh...), so she'll have a sonogram, I think tomorrow or
Caturday.

The past year-plus of stress has finally caught up to me in a big way;
I feel like hell, and I think I might be contracting a bladder
infection because I am peeing constantly it seems, and am so crampy I
hesitate to even begin to describe (trust me, it's bad), and
almost-sweaty, so I'm at the doctor's tomorrow evening after I get off
work. I know...at this point I am so undignified that I might as well
talk about *anything*, but truthfully, that's why I have this blog --
so that I can be as uncouth as I want...or need. Next week: bowel
movements. w00t!

kidding...*kidding*!

And I think one of the few remaining un-spayed Eviljob cats may have
given birth, so I will be back in the trapping bidness in a few
months.

If I don't jump off a cliff, that is. Ok...sleep. Maybe.

Ok; whatever you are drinking, swallow first.

This is for Wildrun:  

I'm quietly plotting.

ohai.

I have to do something about this not sleeping thing. Anyways,
tomorrow I am doing part of my work at Eviljob and a load of
Supermom's work; she is taking a lot of time off right now. I feel
terrible for her. I tweeted about how she's lost her baby, and this is
upsetting to all of us in our functional group. Eviljob is going well,
my teaching is going really well, and I am working on kicking some Job
2.5 ass with the group of us that were on that contract.

After I get out of work tomorrow, I have to drive across town to pick
up some jewellery for Meg, then haul ass to Botany Bay to pick up a
load of cat food that I get for super-cheap through a rescue group out
there to feed all my parking lot ferals. I am still not sure how I am
going to fit it all into The Rolling Office (a/k/a The Deathcoaster);
semesters that I am teaching at satellite campuses (campii?), I lug so
much crap around in my car that it is ridiculous. Sigh. And while out
in Botany Bay, I will not, not, NOT contact a certain someone. Won't.
Shan't.

Ok, I am having Boy Tsouris. Gaaahd, I cannot even talk about it. No
worries, it will blow over.

Butsoanyway.

And this weekend I also have to drive out to my father's (which is a
hell of a drive when time is tight), and make three tests and one
quiz. And Meg cannot help with any of this because...::drum
roll::...she's *busy*. Bwaah!

I am having a very stressful time of it, and that is bad. I am
really, really trying to not flip out, but...it is tempting. And oh,
my, god am I all achy and crampy, not that I would ever let it show
publicly. But I am. And tense.

Ok, enough whining; I will try to sleep again.

Why Our Children Are Teh Stoopid.

I helped an 'Easter Egg Hunt'...and I use the term 'hunt' loosely.  See, the eggs were laid out in plain sight on a pretty large patch of grass, and the area was encircled by a paper ribbon.  The chirrin lined up and the ribbon was cut, and they all ran to grab plastic eggs.  

This was just dumb as hell.  I had nothing to do with the organisation of this.

I suggested that if we needed to help the kids out *that* much, then maybe they needed to get a cheat sheet that had pictures of plastic eggs in all their various colours, with the captioning of 'EGG' under each picture, along with a picture of blades of grass and a clump of dirt, each of which would be labelled 'NOT AN EGG'.  

No one but Meg and me thought this was funny.  

How in the fuck is this a 'hunt'?  Are our kids really that stupid any more?  Are we *really* this deeply in the throes of the 'everyone's a winner' mentality?  At the point where one is just setting eggs down to be picked up, why not just give the eggs out? Why is it that Meg and I are the only ones bothered by this?

I had decided to become more involved in holidaystuffs since I love holidays (especially the Autumn and Winter ones), and never get to do anything for them, it seems, but...this was bullshit. I may not do that again.  Feh.  

omfg.  That is really all I have to say.  Happy Easter.  And happy birthday to Squooshable, Cookie, and Rhett Butler...all Easter squooshables.  :-)

pffft.

i am too tired to give a full-out blog attempt, but this was the first
week of what is looking like many that will be spent trying to give
former job 2.5 hell. essentially, a group of us got completely
shafted. we have met with their personnel in the Great Complaints
Process, and we'll see how that goes. it does not look promising, but
at the very least we plan to try to cost j2.5 as much time and money
as they have cost us, and that still won't touch the whole
intellectual property theft issue.

this is a very involved story, and i just have not been up to
repeating it after being forced to go over and over it in realtime.
forgive me. this was not what we were expecting; we anticipated
honourable behaviour, and it turns out that we received anything but.
it is distressing to think one has to approach a contracting company
with the expectation of being treated badly, but...it is what it is, i
guess.

anyway.

after leaving there today and before turning up at eviljob, i felt
like doing something, but i did not know what...so i went to go get
more of my hair cut off. it looks nice. i did not feel like going back
to the same place (no particular reason), so i stopped at this ancient
beauty school that i have driven past thousands of times travelling
in-between j2.5 and eviljob, and when i say 'ancient', i mean ANCIENT.
nicotine-yellowed walls, water-stained ceiling -- the works. i like
atmosphere. plus, the students looked really interesting.

i picked my student, even though i think we weren't supposed to do
that, cos i am in one of my 'moods', and she was off in her corner
talking to a male (and clearly gay) student, and if i were in a bar,
i'd gravitate towards their type. i was deciding which of the two i
would pester when i saw she had a tattoo of the cups -- like tarot
minor arcana -- and eighty million years ago when i wanted to be a hep
witchypoo girl, i always came up as queen of cups, no matter how i
tried for something cooler. even after i tried to be all malevolent,
still -- queen of cups. i think sandi used to stack her deck, or
something; once she got an idea in her head, she was hard to dissuade.

i am simplifying, but the queen of cups is a fucking apron-wearing,
brownie-baking, bandage-kissing, naive-as-hell soccer mom, the type
who stashes extra brownies in her purse so that no one goes without,
and really does believe her husband caught an std from the toilet seat
and passed it on, reader's digest version (what i can remember). that
really does not mesh with my self-image, then or now. i'm so glad i
am an agnostico-atheist now and do not have to believe, or pretend to
believe, that crap. but someone i really cared about thought it
described me to a T, so...that's how i picked my student hairdresser:
the empirical way.

well, it worked. she did well, even if she did nick me with the shears
right under my browbone. it just looks like i went a little
pluck-happy with my brows. i did not care, and she -- Rachel -- was
mortified and didn't seem to understand how i might not care. i told
her she was not even in the running to claim the title of Worst Thing
To Happen To Ancodia Today.

and i am really happy with my hair, even if i cannot sleep. :-) it was
the cheapest cut i have had in years, too -- seven dollars. no, i am
not kidding. i did give a normal tip, though. i think i will go back.
different is good. and were i a tattoo-getting person, i would get
unusual, deeply personal ones like Rachel has. i amn't a
tattoo-getting type, though; it's my Inner Jew. not that there's
anything wrong with getting tattoos...just not the tribal armband
type; there should be a law.

i have to try to get to sleep...i will try to post tomorrow, or at
least tweet. or twit.

sigh. consider yourself lucky that i didn't get into how crampy and
icky i feel. :-D

what to do?

someone i work with wronged me two weeks ago. like, in a serious way.
now they have sent one of those 'gee, i haven't seen you around
lately' emails. my contract is ending in a month at this place, and i
am not renewing; i am basically quitting, though if money gets tight
enough, i will have no choice but to go back.

...so how should i reply to this email?

sigh.